Breaking Point
by Leia
Summary: [Complete] Sequel to Sacrifice for Loyalty. An epiphany for 18 and a noble decision by Kuririn collide, leaving the two awash in the tide of their emotions. Will love prevail, or will Kuririn's choice remain the same?


Disclaimer:  I do not own DB/Z/GT.  But I DO own … *pause* … um … you know what?  Never mind.  Just read the story!

A/N: As stated in the summary, this is the (long-awaited?) sequel to "Sacrifice for Loyalty."  I was itching to write another k/18 story, and with the rebirth of my muse (I've discovered it's a phoenix) I thought, hey!  Let's actually write a sequel for once!  

It works okay as a stand-alone, though, I'm pretty sure.  I don't like writing stuff that isn't …  

Dedicated to Swiss Army Knife, a kindred spirit where Kuririn is concerned, and an author whose works reside at a standard that mine will never reach.  Thanks for the advice and encouragement … this one's for you.

Breaking Point

The stars had faded, the sun was beginning to shine, and Kuririn had not yet awakened.  He slept fitfully on the couch, his face scrunched into a frown, completely oblivious to the world around him.  As such, he did not notice the young woman perched beside him on the sofa, stroking his forehead.

#18 sat with a puzzled frown on her face, staring at her hand as though it moved without her permission.  She had woken early, as was her custom, and had come out to the living room to see if Kuririn was up.  Upon seeing that he was still asleep, #18's thoughts had enveloped her and she sat next to him without even thinking.  Her hand had left her side and brushed the loose strands of raven hair from Kuririn's closed eyes, without her permission to do so.  It was strange – but Kuririn did that to her.

She didn't understand him, of course.  #18 knew this, even as she traced a finger over his forehead … this human, as simple as he might appear outwardly, was more complex than anyone #18 had ever met.  He was quiet, shy, and unobtrusive, but in his shining-eyed gaze she could tell his feelings for her.  Yet, for all that, he never intruded.  He never voiced any of it – never acted upon the desire so obvious in his eyes.  He accepted #18 into his home without asking for anything in return, and listened to her when she told him to go away.

#18 didn't like being confused.  She didn't like not understanding everything.  Her programming, no matter how much she tried to stifle it, was still able to bother her, to nag at her at every waking moment, telling her this was unacceptable.  She _must_ understand.  She must have control of every situation, and always have the upper hand.  With Kuririn, however, that was impossible.  In his own quiet way, with his small smiles and acts of kindness, Kuririn had managed to stymie every attempt #18 made to figure him out.

#18's programming told her that whatever she did not fully comprehend must be an enemy and should be destroyed.  It wasn't difficult to shake this thought away, but the lingering effects were harder to remove.  Instead of killing him, #18 sought to find a weakness, a breaking point … some method by which she could control him.

Unfortunately, he did not seem to have one.  #18 could sneer at him, could rebuff his attempts to do anything "nice" for her … she could snarl and walk away, bat away his helping hand or turn down his offers to go shopping … but not once did she ever manage to dim his ever-present tender smile.  No matter how cruel, how unfeeling, she acted toward him, Kuririn repaid her with more kindness.  

Sometimes, it made her wonder about Kuririn's upbringing.  He was so quick to accept insults and harsh words – so willing, it seemed, to be the doormat for anyone to trample.  He accepted his position without complaint, without any visible hurt; as if he knew he was not worthy enough to retaliate.  He was this way with his friends, too, #18 had noticed.  If any of them teased or insulted him, he shrugged it off without retort.  What was it that had happened to him to make him so certain of his inferiority?  #18 couldn't tell, and she certainly wasn't going to ask!

It was maddening.

Also, it was undeniably attractive …

It was her only consolation that Kuririn didn't seem to notice the change in #18's feelings.  He wasn't aware how his smile touched something deep within #18; bypassed the circuits in her brain to reach something more human.  He didn't notice when her cheeks flushed, when she suddenly turned away … didn't see how strangely enticing it was that he was so unconditionally attached to her.  

Thank goodness.  #18 didn't think she could stay at the house if Kuririn ever found out, and she certainly did not want to strike out on her own … not now.  Not when she had, oddly enough, gotten used to Kuririn's constant presence.

He'd grown his hair out, and #18 grudgingly admitted that the look worked for him.  It made him look younger, more carefree – less concerned with what others thought.  More and more recently, #18 would have sudden urges to tousle Kuririn's hair or run her fingers through it – just to see what he would do.  He'd probably blush and pretend it didn't happen – a trait that #18 had begun to find endearing.

If that wasn't enough, it seemed Kuririn was invading her subconscious, as well!  Nightmares – whether about Cell or Dr. Gero – were a constant part of #18's nocturnal routine, resulting in her night-owl tendencies and a reluctance to sleep.  The previous night had brought one of the most powerfully frightening dreams #18 had experienced in months … and she knew she had no one but Gero to thank for that.  As part of his control system against #17 and #18, he had tampered with their brainwaves, altering the part of their brains that handled sleep and dreams.  He created it so that whenever they were at rest, both cyborgs would experience intense, horrifying nightmares … this was how he kept them in line.  When they misbehaved, Gero would threaten to deactivate them, leaving them to the mercy of their subconscious.

But last night … in her dream, #18 had somehow conjured up the image of Kuririn.  She remembered screaming for him as Cell advanced toward her, and suddenly, Kuririn had appeared.  He had killed Cell and then held her tight until she relaxed and, in the nightmare, fallen asleep.  #18 had woken feeling more rested than she had ever felt before.  Strange how _real_ his embrace had felt …

At that moment, Kuririn stirred and began to wake, so #18 jumped up from the sofa and backpedaled into the kitchen.  She didn't want Kuririn to know she'd been watching him, so she busied herself with making breakfast.  She wasn't very good, but it was her silent act of thanks to Kuririn for taking her in.  He never said anything, but she had the feeling he knew – Kuririn was the type of person to pick up on subtleties like that … all the more reason for #18's attraction to grow.

"Hey, #18," Kuririn called from the living room, and instantly #18 knew something was up.  His voice was different – brooding, quiet, serious.  Something was on his mind.  "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"It's your house," #18 said by way of agreement, turning off the stove and coming to stand next to the couch.

"It's Master Roshi's, actually," Kuririn corrected her, and the mere fact that he had done so set #18's alarm bells to ringing.  "Listen, #18 … I've been thinking about some things, and I figured I should give you a head's up before I actually went and did it …" he squirmed in his seat, twisting his fingers together.  "Um … I'm gonna' move out for a while, get a place in the city or something.  Like I said, I've been doing some thinking, and it's the best thing for me.  I just wanted to let you know in case you didn't want to stay with Master Roshi alone."

It was as though someone had dropped a bomb on the house – its effect could not have shocked #18 more than Kuririn's hesitatingly uttered statement.  "You're leaving?  Why?"

His eyes shifted, and he refused to meet her gaze.  "Reasons."

#18 couldn't believe what she was hearing, and her mind roiled crazily.  Kuririn couldn't leave – not when #18 had finally come to understand what it meant to enjoy spending time with another person.  Her stronger feelings could be ignored, pushed back; they were not important, but their friendship, #18 had come to realize, was.  She could not think of anything that could have precipitated such a bold move.  "Could I come with you?"

"What?" Kuririn started, jumping in his seat, eyes wide.  "No!  Don't you get it – you're the whole reason I'm leaving!" as soon as the words slipped out, Kuririn clamped his hands over his mouth.  He looked scared.

And well he should be, if his answer was not satisfactory … #18's eyes narrowed dangerously.  "What does that mean?  Don't tell me living with a programmed killer is finally starting to get to you!"

Kuririn shot her a withering glare; the first time he'd ever shown any ill temper toward her.  "Don't be stupid.  I think you know what I mean," the brief contempt faded, replaced by perplexity.  "I – I have to leave because … because … because I care for you too much."

Displaying willful ignorance, #18 crossed her arms.  "Care too much?  That, coming from you, is an oxymoron.  I thought you believe nobody can care too much."

"Well, I was wrong," Kuririn pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms.  His words were muffled.  "I care too much, it hurts too much, and I've betrayed my best friend.  I have to leave.  I can't – I can't see you for a while.  I have to get everything sorted out."

#18 didn't know what to do or say – but she was certain that she could not let Kuririn leave.  Something inside her – Kuririn would have called it her heart – warned her not to let the man go.  "I don't know what you mean.  I don't understand what Son Goku has to do with this, either."

Kuririn moaned and rolled over onto his side, his back to her.  "Why did you have to be so … so … so perfect?" he demanded imploringly, and #18 felt a strange, sympathetic tugging within her at his heartbroken tone.  "You ruined everything …"

Her first impulse was to be angered by the accusation, but as Kuririn had spoken without malice – only despair – #18 swallowed the instant retort and sat next to him instead.  Cautiously, following an instinct she didn't quite understand, #18 rested her hand on Kuririn's shoulder.  "An explanation would be appreciated."

"You – you made me" – Kuririn's voice was breaking regularly, and #18 realized with a start that he was crying.  "You made me fall in love with you – and you don't love me back!  And … and you made me so obsessed with getting you to care for me that I forgot about – I forgot – I forgot about Goku!" he was crying in earnest now.  "How could I?  He was my _everything_, and you've replaced him!  I barely even think about him anymore!  I can't live with that … what would he think if he knew?"

#18 had listened to Kuririn weep over Goku before, but this was definitely a new one – she had never heard Kuririn complain about forgetting him.  Saying nothing, #18 waited for Kuririn to continue … and continue he did.  His doubts, fears, joys, and motives spilled out of him in a long and convoluted tale, its logic so twisted that #18 could barely follow where it was headed.  Indeed, the tale left #18 left breathless, winded, and utterly lost.  [A/N: Read Sacrifice for Loyalty to read the full version of Kuririn's doubts.]

"So what you're saying," #18 said slowly, "Is that you're going to ignore everything and be miserable for the rest of your life … and that is supposed to honour Son Goku's memory?" she paused, and suddenly, inexplicably, she became furious.  "Are you _crazy_?  I never pegged you as being selfish!"

Kuririn sat bolt upright, eyes blazing, his visage twisted in resentment.  The turnaround of emotions was so complete that the tears dried almost instantly upon his cheeks.  "Selfish?!" he yelped.  "How is that _selfish_?"

"Examine your motives, Kuririn," #18 kept her voice steady, but she was shaking with rage – a rage she did not understand.  Why should she care?  Why did it matter to her if Kuririn wanted no part in a relationship with her?  "Son Goku won't ever know what you're doing.  He's dead.  He probably can't see what's going on down here.  It's not going to help you move on.  No, what you want is recognition – you want your friends to see you and think, 'Oh, poor Kuririn.  He gave up every chance for happiness so he could honour Goku's memory.  He is one great guy'.  _That_ is what I consider selfish!"

Kuririn's fists were shaking now, and a flickering energy aura blazed around him.  "You don't know what you're talking about!  What do you know about my motives?"

"If you're that upset with me, I must have struck a nerve," #18 replied evenly.  "Don't you think?"

"Selfish," Kuririn growled, and #18 hardly recognized him, his face was so transfigured.  "_Selfish!  I risked my life to save you – I risked the entire planet – the entire _universe_ – when I destroyed that remote!  I killed my best friend over you – Goku never would have died if I'd just destroyed you!  I used a dragon's wish on you – I defended you to all my friends – I took you in when you had nowhere to go – I've given you food, shelter, clothes – I've given you _everything_ – and you have the _nerve_ to call me __selfish?"_

By this point, Kuririn was not the only one whose composure was lost.  #18 felt a wash of white-hot fury that enveloped her, seeking a release that could not be found.  Kuririn – of all people – the one man who never asked anything of her … he thought she _owed_ him something?  She owed him nothing!  "_Who asked you_?" she demanded wrathfully, jumping to her feet.  "I didn't ask you to destroy that remote!  I didn't ask you to risk everyone's lives for mine.  What makes you think I even _wanted_ to be saved?  Did I ever ask you to defend me from your friends?  Did I ask you to use that dragon's wish – to remove my only link to mortality?  Did I ask you to take me in or give me food?  If I did, I must have been unconscious or talking in my sleep, because I certainly don't remember doing so!"

"And you call me self-centered," Kuririn's voice shuddered with emotion.  "Listen to you, sounding all self-righteous.  Of _course_ you didn't ask for any of that – I gave it to you freely!  If you'd asked for it, I wouldn't have a problem.  But the fact that I did all that _for_ you, and you call me selfish …!  You don't even know me!"

#18 could take no more.  She did _not_ have to answer to this puny, weak human!  What control had he over what she should or should not feel?  Enraged, she drew back her arm to slap him – but something happened.

When her hand touched Kuririn's cheek, instead of following through with the blow, #18 grabbed Kuririn's face, yanked him toward her, and kissed him fiercely.  Kuririn's hands, which had been raised in self-defense, fell limply to his sides.

She pulled back, breathless and panting.  Kuririn stared up at her, bewilderment running rampant across his features.  Never had #18 seen him look so betrayed. 

"Woo hoo!" Kamesen'nin's voice was heard from the doorway.  "Go, Kuririn!  Do I get to fight with #18 next?"

Kuririn's reply was blunt, profane, and to the point.  Eyes bulging, the old man left.

"Why did you do that?" Kuririn demanded brokenly.  His eyes were wet.  He sank back against the couch cushions, staring at #18 dully.  "Why …" he choked on the words, and tears poured down his face.  "Why do you _use_ me like that?"

"I don't … know," #18 muttered, and then her legs buckled and she collapsed onto the sofa.  "I – I wanted to hurt you.  I've wanted to hurt you for months.  I wanted to make you stop caring about me.  I – I wanted to find your breaking point, but I didn't think you had one."

"Well, you've found it," Kuririn began hiccupping in the aftermath of his emotion.  He looked so pitiful that, for the first time in her life, #18 regretted her words.  "You've broken me.  Are you happy now?" his head sank, and tears dropped off the end of his chin.  "Do whatever you want."

A strange, painful sensation crept over #18.  It felt as though someone had taken hold of her heart and was tearing it to pieces, and tossing the fragments into the wind.  She'd never meant to cause Kuririn this pain – or rather, she had meant to, but had not intended the results to be this drastic.  And she certainly did not expect her reaction to them.  It surprised her that, now that she had found Kuririn's breaking point, she had no desire to use it.

"I'm sorry," #18 cupped Kuririn's chin in her palm and raised his face.  The sight of his tearstained cheeks caused a hitch in her chest.  "I'm so, so sorry …" Kuririn stared at her incredulously, but did not speak.  

"I think what upset me the most," #18 spoke slowly, letting the words come straight from her thoughts, without stopping to analyze, "Was that, when you made that decision … to give up love, to keep Son Goku's memory alive … you didn't ask …" her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, #18 was fearful to continue – but she knew she must.  "You didn't ask me.  You didn't ask if I cared.  It was like my feelings weren't important."

Kuririn's eyes went through a magnificent transformation – the unshed tears, which previously gave such a heartbroken expression, suddenly changed to resemble shining hope.  "And do you?" his voice was soft.  #18 got the feeling he didn't want the moment to end; that he was afraid he was dreaming.  "Do you care?"

Suddenly exhausted, #18 closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Kuririn's.  She nodded.  "Yes," she whispered.  "More than anything …"

Speaking those words gave #18 the greatest sense of relief – as if she had been carrying the weight of the entire planet on her shoulders, and it had finally been removed.  She felt free, open; there was nothing more left to hide.

Kuririn let out a quiet sob, and #18 opened her eyes.  "If I'd only known …" he stroked her cheek lightly, almost reverently, with his thumb.  "If I'd known that – I never would have – I'm sorry!"

#18 laughed wearily, but noticed the trepidation that crept over Kuririn's features.  "Son Goku," she said firmly, "Would not want you to spend your life in misery.  Have you ever known him to want you to be unhappy?"

Kuririn shook his head, a small smile on his face.  He looked as though all his questions had been answered.  His hand trembled against her cheek.  "Thanks," he looked away, almost embarrassed.  "I've dreamed about this happening ever since …" he flushed.  "Well, for a long time, anyway."

"I bet you didn't expect to be yelled at and slapped first, did you," #18 said wryly.

"No, I didn't," but that was all he said, for at that moment, both #18 and Kuririn decided they both had enough with talking.  They gazed at each other silently for a few seconds, #18 noticing the rapid beating of her heart.

_Just kiss him already!_ Some impatient part of her mind screamed, and she leaned forward to obey it, but Kuririn kissed her first.

Their lips brushed, and brief though the kiss was, #18 was swallowed by the emotion of it; sparks seemed to fly between them, and tingles ran up and down her body.  Aware that Kuririn's eyes were shimmering, #18 felt a lone tear slide down her own cheek.

"I love you," Kuririn murmured when they'd parted, drawing #18 into his embrace and holding her close.  "I never realized how good it feels to finally be able to say it …"

#18 just smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.  The fact did not escape her that her life would never be the same.

"Soooo," the Turtle Hermit poked his head around the kitchen door.  "When's it my turn?"

******


End file.
